‘Do not slow down on my account,’ she told him. ‘I, too, want to get to West Barton as soon as possible.’
When they reached West Barton a servant ran out to grab the horses’ heads. Zelah jumped down before Dominic could run round to help. He followed her into the house, where the butler’s careworn expression told them that the boy had not come home.
They were shown into the drawing room. Reginald was pacing up and down and Maria sat on a sofa with her head in her hands. When the door opened she flew out of her seat and threw herself into Zelah’s arms, sobbing wildly.
Dominic looked at Reginald, who shook his head.
‘No one has seen him. I have sent my people into the village to ask questions, but the answer is always the same. He was seen leaving the vicarage and walking out of the village in this direction, but then he disappeared.’
‘I left orders for my woods to be searched,’ said Dominic. ‘Everyone at Rooks Tower is fond of the boy, they will make every effort to find him.’
‘Oh, my poor child,’ cried Maria. ‘Where can he be?’
They sat in silence, until Maria pushed herself out of Zelah’s arms.
‘I am forgetting my duty,’ she sniffed, taking out her handkerchief and wiping her eyes. ‘You would like some refreshment, Major Coale. Tea, perhaps?’
‘I think brandy might be preferable,’ suggested Reginald.
When Dominic assented he rang the bell.
‘I would like tea,’ said Zelah, hoping her sister would find some comfort in the well-rehearsed ritual.
Conversation had been stilted as they waited for news. Every knock on the door heralded the return of another search party, but each time they had to report failure. The dinner hour had come and a place was laid for Dominic, but no one had much appetite. The hours passed. Maria dragged herself up, saying she must feed the baby and Dominic announced he would go.
‘No, please, Major, stay,’ Maria beseeched him. ‘Stay at least until I return.’
He could not refuse, but the inaction irked him. By the time Maria came back to the drawing room it was growing dark. He rose.
‘I must get back, my groom is waiting for me in Lesserton. I will come over again in the morning, and if there is still no news we will work out a plan...’
There was a scratching at the door and the butler entered. He crossed the room, holding out a folded piece of paper to his master.
‘Someone slipped this under the door, sir. I looked outside, but I could see no one.’
‘Then go out and search the grounds,’ barked Reginald, taking the note.
‘Too late,’ muttered Dominic, peering out of the window. ‘They’ll have gone away immediately.’ He returned to the hearth and waited. Reginald’s usually cheerful countenance became increasingly grim. ‘Well?’
‘What is it?’ demanded Maria, her hands clasped to her breast. ‘Tell us!’
Silently Reginald handed Dominic the note. ‘Read it out, Coale, if you please.’
‘If the Parents of a certain Young Man want to see him Alive again, then they will not be presenting any new evidence at the White Hart on Friday next. Neither will they make any effort to find him. If they comply with these instructions, the Young Man in question will be delivered to them, unharmed, on Sunday next.’
‘Oh!’ Maria’s hands flew to her mouth.
‘Evanshaw,’ ground out Reginald. ‘It has to be.’ He drove his fist into his palm. ‘But how did he know? He came up to me at the ball and mentioned the hearing. He was bragging that he could not lose, crowing so hard that I cannot believe he knew about the new document.’
‘You told no one about it?’ asked Dominic, pacing the room.
‘No, of course not. I told you I wanted to keep it from that rascally lawyer Evanshaw has engaged.’
‘And I mentioned it to no one at Rooks Tower,’ muttered Dominic. ‘No one outside this room knew of it.’
‘Mr Lerryn.’ Zelah put her hands to her white cheeks. ‘Timothy Lerryn was here when we brought over the manuscript.’
‘By heaven, you are right,’ declared Reginald, horror dawning in his eyes. ‘He asked me about the case, while we took brandy together after dinner.’
‘And I pointed out Sir Oswald to him at the ball,’ whispered Zelah. ‘He must have warned him.’ She turned her eyes, dark with horror, towards Dominic. ‘It is all my fault. This is his revenge upon me...’
Dominic saw the bewildered looks bent on Zelah and he said abruptly, ‘Lerryn tried to impose upon Zelah. I sent him packing. If it is anyone’s fault, it is mine for allowing him into my house in the first place!’
Reginald shook his head. ‘Never mind that now, what are we going to do?’
Maria jumped up and gripped his arm. ‘You must go to Sir Arthur now, Reginald. He is the magistrate, he can get a party together and go to Lydcombe Park—’
‘That will not work,’ put in Dominic. ‘Sir Oswald will deny everything.’
‘But it must be his doing,’ protested Zelah. ‘We could search Lydcombe—’
Dominic shook his head. ‘You may be sure the boy will not be hidden anywhere on Evanshaw’s land.’
Maria looked at each of them in turn, her eyes wide with apprehension. ‘Will he keep his word, do you think? Will he return Nicky to us if we do as he says?’
Reginald rubbed a hand across his brow. ‘Why should he not? Once the hearing is concluded it will be too late to change anything.’
‘But we cannot just sit here,’ declared Zelah.
Reginald snatched the note from Dominic’s hand and waved it at her, his eyes bleak with despair. ‘It says if we try to find him—’ He broke off, swallowing. ‘I dare not do anything.’
The sound of voices in the hall caught their attention. Maria leapt up as the door opened, only to slump back again when she saw Jasper. He was dressed for riding, his spurs jingling cheerfully as he walked in.
‘Lord Markham!’ Reginald sounded more hopeful.
Jasper nodded to the assembled company as he began to strip off his gloves.
‘I was out looking for your boy when I came across Sawley.’ He glanced round as the groom followed him into the room, having stopped to wipe his boots thoroughly before entering the house. Jasper fixed his eyes on Dominic. ‘He was rushing here on foot, so I thought it might be important and took him up behind me.’
Jem dragged his hat off and twisted it between his hands.
‘I thought to see you on the road, sir, seein’ as you hadn’t got to the White Hart an’ I wanted to tell you as soon as maybe.’ No one spoke, no one even moved while he paused to wipe his face with a red handkerchief. ‘I did what you said, sir, and took myself off to the Three Tuns for some home-brewed.’ He grimaced. ‘Rough place, it is, but I pulled me cap down over me face and settled in a corner of the taproom. Anyway, one or two of Sir Oswald’s people was in there, drinking, when a man comes in looking for Miller, the bailiff. Said he had some gaming cocks for him. “He’s gone off to see ’is brother,” says one, only to have ’is foot stamped on by his mate, which shut him up. “Well, that’s odd,” says the man. “When I saw ’im the night afore last he said he’d be ’ere to take these birds off me hands.” Well, there was some mutterings and shifty looks, and it struck me as a pretty rum do.’ Jem rubbed his nose, his brow wrinkled in concentration. ‘They all left soon after, so I took meself off to the High Street to see old Mother Tawton, the washerwoman. Regular gossip, she is, and knows everything about everyone around Lesserton. It being a warm evening I found her sitting in her doorway, smoking her pipe. She told me that Miller’s brother runs a tavern down at Beston Quay. And according to Mother Tawton, that’s who supplies Sir Oswald with his brandy and tea.’